Hummingbird Heartbeat
by HystericalConfession
Summary: A chance meeting... A foreign taste... A love out of the ordinary. Unable to fight the feelings, yet unable to embrace them. Can Jack and Rose break away from the chains that bind them to their unhappy lives and find a way to be together?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone :) ****I sat down to write and this poured out of me. Rated T for violence and sexual overtones. Hope you guys like it :) Please leave a review if you do!**

Her eyes are sea-green, the color of the ocean, and hold secrets just as deep. From across the room, she looks at me with such turmoil in her gaze, yet her face is a blank slate.

I feel Stephanie's hand slip into my own, her fingers intertwining with mine and her breath hot on my neck as she leans close to me. "Jack, I'm ready to go home."

I tear my eyes away from the mysterious redhead and direct them toward my fiancée. The champagne glass in my hand suddenly feels as though it weighs a ton, and I place it upon a nearby table to free myself. Stephanie continues to latch onto me, like a leech or a child, her brown eyes boring into my face as she waits for me to announce our departure from the party.

I'm not prepared for an argument tonight. I give in easily this time.

"Jonathan," I say, attracting the attention of the dark-haired homeowner.

He turns to me with a fake grin, the kind hosts keep plastered on their faces throughout their event. "Jack!"

"Your party was lovely. Great wine, great champagne. Stephanie and I are leaving for the night."

"Thanks so much for coming." He extends his hand out to me, which I grip firmly and return his handshake. My fiancée wears a smug expression as we head for the door, her head held high and her heels clacking against the hardwood floor as she walks.

I can feel the redhead's gaze on me until the door closes behind us.

**OOOOO**

Stephanie is upset with me.

Nothing new.

Her pink lingerie is tight on her toned torso as she sits in front of me on the bed, batting her eyelashes and pouting. "Jack, I want to have fun tonight."

"I told you, I'm tired."

_"Please." _She grabs a handful of my nightshirt's fabric and tugs on it so hard I'm surprised it doesn't rip. "I want you." Her voice is low and seductive; she uses the tone I love, the one that gets me going every time, but this night something's different inside of me.

I'm almost repulsed by her sight. I have no explanation why.

With a sigh, I gently push away her hand and set my feet on the carpet. "Not tonight."

"Jack." Her voice is firm now, with a hint of desperation. "I want you…"

The thought of her naked and lying next to me makes my head ache with a pounding ferocity. I close my eyes and stand up, leaving her sulking on the bed as I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Light floods the room when I flip the switch on, the bulbs positioned on the ceiling casting an eerie yellow glow over me. My eyes look to be sunken into my skull; my cheekbones are high and prominent this evening; the blonde in my hair seems to have faded, my locks dry and feeling like straw. My twenty-first birthday was only last month, yet I easily look ten years older tonight.

I lift my hand up to the mirror, the glass cold against my fingertips. I feel as though I'm searching—for what, I'm not sure. My thoughts revert back to Stephanie in the bedroom; is she throwing a fit or staying calm? Dread fills my stomach at the thought of going back to her, of sleeping next to her.

_Why?_

I've never had this problem before. Stephanie was infamous for being an immature brat at times, but I always managed to look past it and remind myself why I asked her to be my wife in the first place.

But tonight, no matter how long I stare into this bathroom mirror and force myself to think, I'm unable to find any good memories between us.

* * *

An engaged woman shouldn't be having thoughts like this, but when his face turns to mine from across the room and our gazes meet, I lose my breath.

My husband-to-be Cal is nowhere to be found; I assume he's in a back bedroom with that beak-nosed mistress of his. He thinks I have no idea, but he underestimates my cleverness. I was not raised a dumb woman; then again, I continue to stay with him despite his affairs.

Yet Cal is long out of my mind as this man lifts his eyes from his champagne glass and focuses them on me, his lips parting just the slightest, as if in awe. I've been told I'm beautiful, but it didn't matter to me until this moment, until he laid his eyes on me.

His gaze is as crystal and blue as the sky, or the unwavering sea's surface. The tuxedo he wears is tight around his biceps, but only enough to make me want to see his skin underneath the black fabric. His hair is blonde and slicked back, his eyes attached to mine, speaking volumes yet his mouth is silent.

I want to be closer to him, and he to me.

I want him.

A thin brunette grabs his hand and pulls him closer to her, whispering in his ear with a devilish expression on her face. He looks defeated and sets down his champagne glass before telling Jonathan goodbye.

His back is stiff, as is his stride, as he walks out the door with the woman in tow, and I can almost feel disappointment come off of him in waves at leaving me behind.

I want to follow him, I want to tell him my name. But I stay where I am, separated from the partygoers and sipping my alcohol, dreading what I am sure will come tonight when Cal is finished with his mistress.

**OOOOO**

The film of sweat on my skin is disgusting; almost as revolting as the expression of accomplishment on Cal's face as he lies in bed next to me, his bare chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. I hate myself for giving into his advances tonight, but I feared punishment more than I did sex.

I kept my mouth closed as he undressed, allowing myself to think nasty comments about his mistress but forbidding myself from saying them aloud. They'd only be met with Cal's fist, and I was not prepared for that tonight.

I leave the warmth of the bed in search of a nightgown, my mind reeling from the experience. I tell myself I don't have to live this way, I don't have to marry him, but then he whispers threats of more abuse and even death to me if I leave, and my heart sinks into my chest. Courage was never on my side; fear, on the other hand, has been my constant companion.

With panties on and a nightgown covering my body, I feel better and am eventually able to return to the bed. Cal's snores are loud, but I thank God he's asleep as I position myself as far away from him as possible on the mattress, my legs dangling off the edge. My heart beats uncertainly in my chest, as it does every night, and I fall into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**brittany-anderson and Moment For Life, thank you so much for the reviews! :) And yes, I did name this after the Katy Perry song, hahaha.**

**Enjoy chapter 2!**

_Her touch is soft, her fingertips trailing the skin of my jaw and then stopping on my lips. My heart is about to pound out of my chest; my blood is boiling like I'm on fire. I might as well be, for I've never felt something so exhilarating as I do now. Her face hovers mere millimeters in front of mine, her lips touching mine just enough to drive me wild. I want nothing more than her kiss, her delicious kiss; I __**need **__it. I need __**her.**_

_As if she can read my thoughts, she smashes her mouth into mine, sending electricity coursing all throughout my body. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her on top of me, and deepen our kiss. Her hands tangle themselves in my hair, and I just want __**her**__, I just need __**her**__, and no one else. If I've been with a woman before her, I can't remember it in this moment. She's all I could ever need. I haven't heard her speak before, and I don't even know her name, but what I do know, is that she was destined to be mine. It's spelled out in the stars, and as her body curves into mine and her fingers lace themselves with mine, I know she can feel it, too._

_ My darling, my eternal. _

_ My perfection. Pure perfection._

_ I never want to leave this._

_ Sweat coats our skin, and her red curls tickle my face as she presses her ear against my chest. I never would have thought that a woman listening to the sound of my heartbeat would be so comforting, but I feel so at peace right now. I run my hand down her naked back, memorizing the feel of her skin, of __**her, **__and basking in the glow of her love._

_ I never want to leave this._

**OOOOO**

A distant ringing begins to stir me from my sleep, but I fight it stubbornly, like a wounded soldier in combat. Nevertheless, I'm awakened as the noise grows louder, and when I open my bleary eyes, I discover it's my blaring alarm clock, screaming that it's already 8AM.

I can't force my eyes all the way open just yet, so I prop my back against the wall and begin to rub my temples. The empty spot next to me tells me that Stephanie has gone out for the day; certainly not a rare occurrence. I can only pray that she doesn't put too big of a dent in my wallet today.

As I finally climb out of my bed, I notice that my heart feels heavy in my chest, threatening to plummet into the depths of my body—but it's not a negative feeling, an unpleasant emotion; it's almost comforting, and I can't quite put my finger on it as I dress myself for the day and slick back my disheveled blonde locks. The man looking back at me in the mirror this morning isn't _me_—at least, it's not the me that existed last night, the annoyed, unhappy man struggling to control a sudden repulsion for his beautiful fiancée.

No, this morning I feel even _more _put off by Stephanie, but something inside of me has changed. Something positive has been birthed and is growing and lurking inside me, though I was unaware that it was even conceived in the first place.

My reflection is made up of my blue eyes, sparkling like diamonds for some reason, a slacked jaw, and a neutral expression, no trace of emotion playing on my lips whatsoever. The weight of my heart seems to have lifted just a bit, and I give myself a small smile before turning off the bathroom light and exiting the room.

* * *

Over the course of my relationship with Cal, my body has learned to thrust me into consciousness any time it feels the slightest movement, and as my fiancé stumbles almost drunkenly out of bed, my eyelids fly open and my system is on high alert. He swears loudly as he kicks the bedpost; the mattress shakes violently in response to his accident, stirring up the constant sense of fear that resides inside of me. I grab a handful of blanket and pull the fabric up over my face, darkness swallowing me and removing Cal from my sight. His sounds, however, are still able to penetrate my ears, and I cringe at the sounds of him brushing his teeth and slamming down combs and bottles of gel as he styles his hair.

Even the man's noises make me sick to my stomach. How can I live with this for the rest of my life?

_Kill yourself. _

I throw back the covers and shake the thought out of my bed; it's been returning to my mind often lately, and I have mixed emotions about it. On one hand, it's certainly a method of getting rid of Cal; I'll be dead, and he can't bother me anymore. His slaps and punches and spit will no longer trouble me, his lips will no longer touch my face. But on the other hand, of course, it means my life is cut short, and I'll be unable to do all the things I had planned out for my life.

But accepting Cal's proposal was a big setback on my bucket list, anyway, since he forbids me from doing so many things.

Though he knows I'm awake, he offers me no goodbye as he slams the front door and heads out for work.

The carpet is warm against my bare feet, and I pad into the bathroom to fix up my sleepy appearance. The mirror shows me a pretty girl with bright, green eyes and rosy lips, but as I shift my focus from the glass to the cup of hair clips on the counter and back up again, my reflection is no longer there.

Instead, it is the reflection of a blonde-haired man with glittering baby blue eyes and a face void of emotion. I jump back in surprise, dropping the hair clips in my hand. They fall to the tiled floor with soft clings, scattering everywhere in the bathroom. Panic is not my first response; I feel a rush of adrenaline throughout my veins, like the first time I made love to one of my ex-boyfriends. I claw at my chest in shock, my heart beating wildly and my eyes bugging out my skull. When I shake my head and look back to the mirror, his face is gone, replaced by mine again.

_What the hell?_

He couldn't have been behind me, because there wasn't enough room between me and the wall for a person to fit into, and his reflection was the only one in the glass, with no trace of mine. I don't feel threatened or scared, just energetic, my skin tingling with sparks.

I bend down to gather up the fallen hair clips when I realize who the man is: the blonde man from the party last night.

Rising back to a standing position, I stare at myself intently in the glass as I pull back a clump of my red curls to pin them up. My cheeks are flushed, burning pink from surprise, and my eyes are still wide, but I can't help from breaking into a giant grin.

I had seen him again.

In an incredibly strange way of course, but he was still there; I still _saw _him. It doesn't matter that I have absolutely no explanation for what the hell just happened, because my mood is over the moon now. My smile remains plastered on my face as I leave the bathroom, unexplainable excitement pumping throughout my body.


End file.
